


The Ingenuity of Edith (or the Nicked Knockwursts Get Nicked Again)

by lost_spook



Category: 'Allo 'Allo!
Genre: F/F, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-21
Updated: 2009-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1643303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michelle's plan has gone wrong (again) and it's up to Edith to save the day.  This would be so much easier without the help of everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ingenuity of Edith (or the Nicked Knockwursts Get Nicked Again)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KannaOphelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/gifts).



> Written for Kanna-Ophelia

 

 

 **NB** Accents: Sorry, but it didn't work without them. They are hopefully consistent, except in the case of Edith (and Rene) where it didn't sound right in my head, and for occasional reasons of readability.

***

Madame Edith Artois hid behind the curtain in the Colonel's office in the chateau and held her breath as a German soldier searched the room, praying to avoid discovery. She had a sausage down her front that might contain a forgery, a genuine Old Master, dynamite or possibly plain sausage, although had it been a battery, she would have known by now.

She was in this predicament for the sake of France, her country, for which she would gladly die!

And, of course, because their plan had gone bottoms up again. 

Monsieur Alfonse (the elderly undertaker with the dicky ticker who was madly in love with her) had been supposed to arrive with the coffin containing the replacement grandfather clock (for the one that Colonel von Strohm was going to present to General von Klinkerhoffen until it had suffered an unfortunate incident at the hands of Herr Otto Flick of the Gestapo).

The hearse also carried the coffins containing her husband Rene (well, officially he was her dead husband's identical twin brother from Nancy, but they would be once more be married any day now) and Mimi (the café's diminutive serving girl who was also secretly a member of the Resistance) who were supposed to be planting dynamite in the clock in order to blow up the General once it struck midnight and the little birdie popped out of the door and gave a tweet). So far, it was simple, was it not?

It was a plan that had been hatched up by Michelle of the Resistance, who unhappily did not realise (or wish to hear) that their collection of sausages (containing the dynamite among other things) had been requisitioned by General von Klinkerhoffen himself and were now in the kitchens of the chateau. 

Edith and Yvette (the café's other serving girl) had been hastily despatched to retrieve the nicked knockwursts in time to place the dynamite inside the clock and to prevent any drastic behaviour from Michelle who had threatened to shoot Rene should he fail in this plan. 

However, that that idiot of a policeman who could not speak French (he was English) had now arrested Monsieur Alfonse for parking his hearse in a spot designated for Lieutenant Gruber's little tank, the handsome Italian Captain had his heart set on dining on an unidentified sausage (that might be a forgery, an old master, dynamite or a battery, or even an actual sausage), the General had ordered Yvette to go to his room, Rene and Mimi stood a good chance of being buried alive along with a valuable grandfather clock and they would all lose their post-war investment to Herr Flick of the Gestapo who was even now making an impromptu inspection of the kitchens with Helga, (a female German officer of the opposite sex) and von Smallhausen, his subservient assistant. 

The only thing Madame Edith could be thankful for was that the British airmen were still safely hidden in the café. Stolen sausages were bad enough without wandering idiots in unconvincing disguises who could not understand a word of the language.

She would have to keep her wits about her and save the day. It should not be too hard. Her wits were very sharp, she reflected with satisfaction.

*

Edith peeked out from behind the curtains and surveyed the Colonel's study. It was empty of everything but ornate furniture, so she climbed off the window sill as nimbly as a woman could with a large sausage stuffed down her dress.

She crept across the room towards the door, only for Colonel von Strohm himself to walk in.

He stopped and stared, his jaw dropping and his eyes bulging.

"Colonel!" She pushed the door shut behind him. "Do not give me away, I beg of you, or it is all up with us."

He gaped again. "Madame Edith! Vot are you doing here?"

"You remember ze painting of ze Fallen Madonna with ze Big Boobies?"

He sighed fondly. "Of course. Vot has zat to do vith anyzing?"

"The `andsome Italian Captain is about to make a meal of it - or possibly some dynamite. That is, if `err Flick does not uncover the secret of the sausage first."

He frowned. "But zis is terrible. I could be in big trouble!"

"It is worse than you know," returned Edith. "You `ave to do something, Colonel."

"Me?" he squeaked. He looked around instinctively, ready to order Hans to do whatever it was instead. However, Captain Hans Geering was currently in enemy hands in England claiming to be an escaped British Airman and as a result, not available. 

She beamed at him and fluttered her eyelashes. 

"Vot can I do?" he said, taking a hasty step backwards. "Be reasonable, Madame Edith. If I vas discovered to be helping you, I vould be in _very_ hot vater and ve vould not vant zat, vould ve?"

She shrugged. "If you were to say you `ad `eard the Communist Resistance were blowing up ze railway bridge at the other end of the town, it would get all the soldiers out of ze chateau and I could then retrieve the stolen sausages wiz ease."

"Vot? Vot if zey find out it's not true and I've made it all up?" He folded his arms and pouted. "I could be sent to ze Russian Front. I'm not doing it."

Edith paused. "It is as likely as not. Zey are always blowing things up and zey `ave not `ad a go at ze railway bridge for at least three weeks."

"Oh, very vell, but if you are not gone by ze time I get back - and ze sausages vith you - I shall have you shot."

"Have no fear, Colonel. I shall deal with everything!"

Sometimes Edith got carried away with her own brilliance. It was surprisingly easy without Rene around to dampen her spirits with sarcasm and awkward objections. 

(For instance, he so selfishly argued against any wonderful plan of Michelle's that involved him blowing himself up or getting shot for the Glory of France. It was enough to make her think she had married a spineless jellyfish and not a man. She would be happy to die for France!)

*

Edith waited for the sound of shouts, soldiers marching about and the engine of Lieutenant Gruber's little tank.

She slipped out and made her way through the chateau (she knew all its ways well, as she had worked here as a mere slip of a girl) and tapped on the door of the General's room, hoping to retrieve Yvette, who could then make herself useful for once.

He emerged smartly. "Yes? I am on my way out. I am very busy, having peasants shot."

"I brought you your tea." She smiled her brightest smile, showing all her teeth.

He looked her up and down. "No, you have not. My, you are a very odd shape, are you not?"

"'Ow strange," said Edith, following his gaze and ignoring the personal comment about her sausage. "I'm sure I `ad it when I left ze kitchen."

He frowned. "Are you not Madame Ediz from ze café? Vot are you doing here?"

"They are very short staffed."

"I see," he said, losing interest and marched on.

Edith peered in through the door. "Yvette? Psst!"

There was no answer, so she shrugged and continued on her mission, down to the kitchens.

*

She was half way down the stairs, when she met Private Helga Geerhart coming in the opposite direction.

The blonde, uniformed woman stopped and then hurried over to her. "Madame Edith, are you planning to retrieve ze stolen sausages from ze kitchens?" she asked in a low tone.

"Indeed. Nozing shall deter me."

Helga pulled her to one side. "I fear I must varn you zat Herr Flick of the Gestapo is vaiting inside ze kitchen, cunningly disguised as a strangely unattractive kitchen maid. He has borrowed my undervear again."

"Zis is bad news," said Edith, biting her lip. "Can you not persuade `im to leave?"

She shook her head. "He is immovable. He ordered Captain Bertorelli to go avay or he vould shoot him after he tried to chat him up. I zink ze Captain was somevot startled."

Edith thought about this. "But I must get `old of those sausages. It is a matter of ze most urgent."

"I understand," said Helga. "Perhaps zere is some vay in vhich ve can still manage to smuggle zem out vithout arousing zeir suspicion?"

"Their?"

"Von Smallhausen is also present. He is disguised as a vashervoman. It is a very convincing disguise."

Edith considered the problem. "Zis is most inconvenient. I must go and get my hands on an `earse."

*

Many people would be struck by the coincidence of running into a tall, handsome, young undertaker when in search of a hearse and three coffins, but Madame Edith took these things in her stride. Others would have even more been struck by the fetching lipstick said undertaker was sporting under his moustache, but these things had ceased to seem unusual in occupied Nouvion.

"What `as happened?" demanded the newcomer, melting out of the shadows to pounce on her. "Where is Rene? Where is ze grandfather clock?"

She lowered her voice. "Zat idiot of an Englishman who is masquerading as a policeman `as arrested Monsieur Alfonse and confiscated `is `earse."

"I shall deal wiz zat," the other said. "What of ze grandfather clock and ze dynamite?"

She sighed. "Ze clock is still in ze coffin, but I fear ze dynamite is in ze kitchen of ze chateau and is being watched most closely by ze Gestapo."

"Zis is unfortunate." The young undertaker frowned. "We must come up wiz a fiendishly brilliant plan."

She said, "If we can retrieve one of the coffins, we can claim that one of the kitchen staff has been mistakenly shot. I shall dress up as a nun and keep vigil. Then, once the Gestapo `ave left, I shall stuff the sausages in the coffin!"

"Ze Gestapo are ruthless and heartless. Zey may not budge, even for a dead body and a nun."

Edith paused. "This is true."

"It is most disheartening," sighed the other. "I do not know if it is even worth trying to blow up ze General tonight, as ze Communist Resistance have blown up ze railway bridge. And it was my night to blow zings up, but always zey must make a bigger bang. Never will zey play fair."

She leant in nearer. "But that was only a story I invented, to get everybody out of ze chateau!"

"Madame Edith," said the undertaker with deep respect. He kissed her on both cheeks. Edith blushed. He was a very good-looking young man, it must be said.

She looked up at him. "And what is your name?"

"It is I," he said, a note of offence creeping into his voice as he tore off his moustache and lifted his hat. Brown hair fell free. "Michelle of ze Resistance."

Edith grimaced. Then she returned to the matter in hand. "Michelle, `ave you a plan?"

"I will zink of somezing," she promised. "I shall go to ze police station and order Crabtree to release ze undertaker and ze `earse. You keep an eye on ze kitchens. If ze Gestapo leave, even for an instant, you will leap in like a gazelle and fetch ze sausages wiz ze dynamite `idden inside."

She nodded. "For the sake of France, I will do anything!"

"For France!" echoed Michelle. She kissed her on both cheeks again. "Madame Edith, I believe you are ze bravest woman in Nouvion."

She indulged in a self-satisfied smile. Secretly, she knew this to be true. Then she frowned. In Nouvion? Surely she was the bravest woman in all of France?

"What is zat down your front?" added Michelle, pausing to indulge her curiosity.

She said. "It was the only sausage I had chance to get `old of."

"Is it ze dynamite?"

Edith removed it. "Sadly, it seems to be only sausage."

*

"Listen very carefully, I shall say zis only once."

Edith jumped as Michelle returned silently and swiftly, like a shadow in the night. "Michelle!"

"Crabtree `as gone, along wiz M. Alfonse. I suspect zey have taken the `earse back to the front of ze chateau."

Edith's eyes widened. "But all the soldiers will soon return in a very bad mood as they will have found no one to shoot at!"

"Zis is true. We must create a distraction."

Edith thought. "Shall I don some clever disguise?"

"No. I `ave it," said Michelle. "You will go to ze kitchen with a basket of food for ze old washerwoman, whose birthday it is and you will sing to `er."

She frowned. "But `ow will that `elp? Besides, since the old washerwoman is really ze Gestapo, `e will know that this cannot be true."

"If he admits ze truth, he will expose himself."

Edith shrugged. "Yes, I can see `e would not want to risk _that_." 

"Once zey have left the kitchen, you will retrieve ze sausages. In the meantime, I shall slip around ze chateau silently like a cat and move ze `earse."

Edith paused. "Why will they leave ze kitchen?"

"Zey will be overcome with gratitude," said Michelle hastily.

"You think of everything."

She nodded with a weary sigh. "It is my job. It is `ard work."

"But you do it so well," said Edith putting a hand on her arm. "It is for France!"

"France is very demanding," Michelle returned. "Look, I have worn down all my fingernails again."

She raised her chin, her eyes afire with glorious purpose. "Ah, but when we win zis war, there will be freedom and liberty!" Coming down to earth again, she added, "And if you are worried about your fingernails, I `ave a lotion you could use. It is very good - a recipe I `ad from an old gypsy woman."

"Thank you," said Michelle. Then she paused. "Your bravery is second to none. Madame Edith, zere is somezing I must say now, or I fear I will never get a second chance."

She shrugged. "Well, `urry up, then. We `ave not got all night."

*

"In vain I have struggled wiz my feelings," continued Michelle as she embraced her (to the considerable alarm of Edith, who had preferred her when she was a handsome and mysterious young undertaker), "but I must tell you how much I love and admire you. Your bravery, your wit, your... I cannot quite put my finger on it."

Madame Edith drew herself up to her full height and glared. "Then do not try," she advised. "Michelle, control yourself and unhand me!"

"It `ad to be said. Underneath zis trenchcoat and beret, am I not still a woman? I `ave feelings I cannot always conceal -."

She pulled her hand away and held it her to her chest with melodramatic effect. "For the sake of our country, you must remember that I am married to Rene -."

"Currently, `e is only your late `usband's identical twin brother. And you should `ear what zey say about you in ze queue at ze post office."

She said, "I am promised to Rene Artois - the bravest man in all France and vital to the Resistance. Unless, of course, I marry M. Alfonse, as he has two `earses, `orses, many coffins and is always prepared to bring a girl flowers. I do not count the `andsome Italian Captain, although `e is a tease. Michelle, this is a love that can never be."

"Oh, well, it was worth a try," said Michelle philosophically. "I shall resign myself."

"But it is very perturbing. Maybe I should `ide myself in a convent if I am now to turn ze `eads of all the ladies?"

They both thought about this.

"I do not zink it would `elp," was Michelle's verdict.

Edith patted her arm. "There, there. Do not distress yourself. I suppose I can understand it. I _am_ very attractive. I have always driven ze boys _quite_ wild."

"I do not know what came over me. It must `ave been ze night and your bravery, or your love for France, or - I do not know."

Edith looked a little put out. "But is it not my good looks and my voice, which `as been said to be like that of a little bird?"

"No," said Michelle after a pause for consideration. Somehow the words: _which bird_? were floating in the air. "It is definitely your bravery and your wit. Do not fear, I shall `ide my emotion once more. Indeed, I think it has already flown off into the night. We shall never speak of it again."

As they parted ways, Edith raised her eyebrows and thought: _So even that she says only once..._

Who would have thought it? She really was going to have to be careful in future if her simple charms could captivate even a female Resistance fighter of the same sex. She had always been able to turn the heads of all the boys. If she was going to start doing the same with the ladies, she would have to lock herself in the back room.

Then she permitted herself a little smile, because Edith always _did_ like an admirer. (Of course, she preferred a handsome, rich male admirer, but it was wartime and these were hard to come by. One had to make do and Michelle was, after all, the leader of the local Resistance. She had to admit it was gratifying.)

*

However, unexpected emotions and revelations aside, the plan itself was straightforward. Edith had only to fetch herself a basket, powder her nose, and return to serenade two of the Gestapo in their current disguises.

It should be most simple. She contemplated which song she should sing.

*

Edith walked up to the kitchen door of the chateau with a basket in her hand. It was empty, but an artfully placed cloth and a rose concealed that as far as she was able.

She knocked on the door.

Von Smallhausen opened it and she had to admit that Helga was correct. It was indeed a most convincing disguise. Had she not known, she would have believed he was a genuine washer woman. At least, until he spoke.

"Yes?" he creaked.

She steeled herself for the effort, then beamed at him and kissed him on the cheek. "My dear, dear Mathilde! Happy anniversary."

"I beg your pardon?"

She gave a small laugh. "You cannot think I would `ave forgotten. And after you were so good to my poor, dear Mama. I 'ave brought you a basket of goodies and I am going to sing to you."

"Oh." He seemed to be thinking about it for quite some time. "Zat is most kind of you. You had better come in."

Behind him, Herr Flick (still disguised as a female serving maid of the opposite sex), said, "Who is it?"

"She says she is my good friend Madame Ediz from ze café," he told him. "She has come to sing to me. It is my birzday."

He emerged into view and Edith had to hide at smile at the sight of him, dressed in his servant's uniform, but still owning to his limp and stick. "Zis is most inconvenient."

"Yes," she gushed, knowing that this was the only option, "I am come to wish my dear friend Mathilde an `appy birthday by serenading `er with `er favourite song-."

A sudden, loud shrieking, moaning noise filled the room. Von Smallhausen jumped visibly, although Herr Flick merely inclined his head and frowned.

"What was zat?" gasped Edith. "It sounded quite unearthly!"

Herr Flick shrugged. "It is probably ze boiler. If you do not like it, you should leave. I am sure Mathilde vill be glad to take ze basket vizout ze song."

"We do not need you to sing," Von Smallhausen assured her with a tremble in his voice.

She kept a firm hold of the basket. "I am not one to be terrified out of my wits by a silly noise. I shall begin: `'Ow would you like to be..."

"Herr Flick," whined his assistant, "she is singing!"

He paused. "Most observant of you, von - Mathilde."

"Can ve not shoot her just a little?"

"...under the bridges of Paris with me? La laaaaa."

He said, "I zink it may be wise in this instance to make a retreat."

"Oh, zank goodness," breathed von Smallhausen.

"I speak of myself, obviously," he said. "You vill of course remain here on guard. I believe I saw some cheese on ze table."

Von Smallhausen was about to avail himself of it, when the strange sound came again. "Herr Flick, I do not like zis."

"Fool," he said. "It is bound to be ze pipes, zat is all."

Edith would not have noticed fifty strange, banshee-like wails while she was singing. Of course, while she was singing, it sounded as if fifty banshees were wailing, but that was beside the point.

However, she did notice the white-sheeted figure that abruptly jumped out from the inner door. It shrieked again. "Woooooooooooooooooooo!!"

"Herr Flick!" gasped von Smallhausen and promptly fainted.

He glared at his prone form and hit him with his cane. "Von Smallhausen, you are a nitwit. How many times must I instruct you to call me Angeline?"

Edith stared, aghast. It was not the sight of a ghost that distressed her, but the improbable sight of a ghost wearing one of her white tablecloths with policeman's boots clearly visible beneath.

"Vell, and vot are you doing here?" demanded Herr Flick. "Vot respectable ghost haunts ze kitchens razzer zen ze dungeons?"

"I was mardered in the kotchin," came a muffled explanation. "Bulled aloove. And I woll drive any I sew in here into midness."

"Remarkable," he returned. "I shall go and fetch my Gestapo recording device. My godfather Heinrich Himmler vill be most interested to hear a voice from beyond ze grave. Do not leave."

"Do nit fur. I woll nit goo."

Edith closed her eyes and held her breath, as it all seemed about to work, despite the unwanted interference. Herr Flick was on the way to the exit, when suddenly Lieutenant Gruber walked in the outer door.

"Ah, zere you are," he said, marching over to Herr Flick, his face twitching nervously. "Ah. You girl, I mean. Vot did you say your name voz?"

He stared at him in visible annoyance and then recollected himself enough to attempt a simper. "Angeline Despard."

What was he doing here? Just as her plan was about to work, that idiot Crabtree entered dressed as an unlikely ghost and then when it seemed that even _that_ plan might come off, now here was Lieutenant Gruber, looking most unhappy about something and trying to flirt with a female maid of the opposite sex and, even though the maid was in fact Herr Flick, this was still most unlike him. It was a circumstance of the most trying.

He crossed over to Herr Flick, swallowed and then put an arm around him and gave him a hasty kiss on the cheek. He winked unsubtly. "I find you very attractive, Angeline. Vy not come to my room later?"

"How dare you?" snapped Herr Flick, slapping him and pushing him away with his Gestapo stick. "I am not zat sort of girl!"

"Zank goodness," breathed Gruber. 

Edith saw that everything was going to pot, as always. She stepped forward.

"Madame Ediz!" said Gruber, spying her in dismay. "What - er - a pleasant surprise."

She looked down at the fallen Von Smallhausen. "I shall sing again and per'aps it will bring `er round."

"Zat be enough to vake ze dead," agreed Herr Flick.

The ghost behind him shook.

"Is zat - is zat - a spectre?" gasped Gruber, his eyes widening in shock. He passed out alongside von Smallhausen.

Edith shrugged and sang. It was, if she said it herself (and no one else would, so she had to), one of her best performances.

*

As soon as Herr Flick had made his retreat, she set about removing the sausages from their hangings and placing them in the basket.

"I am sirry," said Crabtree from under the white cloth. "M. Alfanse teld me that the sissages were at the choteau and -."

She passed him two knockwursts. "Oh, be quiet, you English idiot, and put these down your trousers. They will not fit in my basket."

"I am nit surpreesed. They are bog ones."

Edith heaved an impatient sigh, then crouched down and slapped Lieutenant Gruber lightly on the face. "Lieutenant, wake up!"

"You have got ze sausages?" he asked, sitting up.

As she got to her feet again, von Smallhausen gave a moan and sat up groggily. The ghost put down the sausages, picked up a saucepan and hit him over the head with it. Von Smallhausen collapsed again.

"Yes, but no thanks to you," she said. 

He sighed. "She _made_ me do it," he confessed, as Yvette poked her head round the door. "I voz _most_ reluctant."

"Madame Edith!" she exclaimed. "I wondered what `ad `appened to you."

Gruber got to his feet unsteadily. "It was for Rene. You vill tell him so? He is stuck in a coffin and -."

"Yes, never mind," said Edith. "Yvette, what is ze meaning of this?"

She folded her arms. "Oh, zat useless police officer who zinks zat `e can speak French went off with ze `earse-."

"I know that, you foolish child. Why is `e in `ere?"

"I cannot help but vonder," put in Gruber, "vy there is a ghost holding a large saucepan and a sausage in zis kitchen. It does not seem normal to me. Am I dreaming?"

"I zought if ze Lieutenant tried to chat up ze Gestapo, it might get `im to leave ze kitchen," said Yvette.

Edith sniffed. "You need not `ave bothered. Michelle and I `ad a _much_ better plan to get rid of `im. And, as you see, it `as worked!"

"Should ve not leave?" asked Gruber. He sighed again. "I have lent my little tank to anozzer for ze evening and zis is not easy for me. However, anyzing to save Rene -."

She paused. "Where _is_ Rene?"

"Unfortunately, zey cannot get ze coffin lid free," eplained Yvette. "Michelle and Mimi are trying to prise it off and extract `im, but it is proving difficult. Poor Rrrrrrene!"

Gruber echoed the sentiment. "Poor Rene, indeed.

Crabtree leant forward. "I suggost woo mick a swoft exit."

"What did `e say?" asked Edith.

Yvette put her hands on her hips. "'E said we should make a swift exit."

"Then `e is right. Come along!"

*

They retrieved the sausages, but most unfortunately for everyone, General von Kinkerhoffen returned from his expedition (finding the railway bridge entirely unexploded and nothing more than a cow or two to shoot at) only to discover an attractive grandfather clock sitting on a hearse outside the chateau. He did as any German general would and instantly commandeered it, thus scuppering their plans, despite everyone's efforts.

Michelle was not pleased.

*

"It is not easy," she railed in the café later, close to tears for only the second time since they had first encountered her. "Do you zink it is simple to come up with zese plans? No, it is not. And I am now working in ze post office and ze library when I am not running the Resistance, zanks to ze Germans shooting people. It is too much! Ze least you could do is carry out plans wizout losing dynamite, clocks and getting trapped in a coffin."

Edith stepped in. "Never mind, Michelle," she said. "It is not _all_ bad news. The Communist Resistance did _not_ blow up the railway bridge; we `ave retrieved the dynamite and we can always blow up ze General another day. Maybe next time, you will `ave thought of a way to blow up ze Gestapo along with `im."

"Yes, let's `ope so," added Rene, wiping his hands on his apron. "But what I want to know is when you're going to get those stupid British airmen out of `ere. They are cluttering up the place and it is very incovenient."

Michelle dried her eyes instantly, powdered her nose and adjusted her lipstick, before becoming businesslike again. "Now zat you mention it, I do `ave an idea. Listen very carefully, I shall say zis only once..."

"Then it `ad better be good," said Rene.

Edith shushed him and winked at Michelle.

*

Michelle tapped on the wall and two pictures moved aside to reveal Carstairs and Fairfax.

"Halloo!" they both called.

She said, "Right, now listen up, chaps. I've got a grand wheeze to get you out of here, but you're going to have to put these togs on." (Unlike Crabtree, her command of a foreign language was superb).

Rene was still protesting. "They are not going to be waitresses in my café! Over my dead body."

Edith paused and then shrugged. "Technically, you are dead, so stop complaining."

"Only for one night," said Michelle. "Zen zey will be gone. I do not see why you are making such a fuss."

"They do not even speak the language! Do you not think the Germans will think it strange that we are employing gibbering idiots who cannot understand the orders of our customers?"

"It is ze war," said the Resistance Leader with a shrug. "We all `ave to make sacrifices."

"Of all the stupid, bird-brained schemes... this is the latest..."

"Oh, shut up," snapped Edith. "Besides, it is my café now. And it is for France!"

Michelle headed for the window, heedless of the café owner's grumbling. "I shall now steal away into ze night."

"Good riddance!" Then Rene shook his head. "Will this dreadful war never be over?"

"One day," Edith told him, the stars still in her dark eyes. "You will see."

"I doubt it. I will probably `ave been shot dead long before then!"

She frowned at him. Did she complain about such things? No, she did not. If they shot him, she would bear it bravely. She had planned the funeral out in great detail already (she had rather a fetching widow's outfit she had already had to use once), so that was one less worry. What did she say? It was most dispiriting and he was indeed a spineless jellyfish. If not for her, he would not be the hero of the Resistance he now was.

These was undeniably true and she hummed to herself as she walked out of the room.

***

 


End file.
